Whole 30: Week 1

Day 1: No big deal/what have I done

Feels about right. I woke up on Monday feeling well-rested and ready to tackle the day. Grabbed my bag full of Whole30 treats and set out to conquer the day. Everything (whole30-related) went smoothly and even felt motivated enough to get back on the blogging horse. But, I’ve heard tales of the dreaded carb hangover (this is a real thing, google “carb flu”) and I am scared. I’ve never been good at hangovers…..

Day 2 -3 : The hangover

Compared to my usual hangovers, this was nothing. To be honest, I felt pretty normal. Although, I am launching my first international campaign at work this week, so maybe I was just too busy comparing international time zones to think about food…On that same line, it became aggressively obvious how important it is to prepare when all of my go-to snacks, even my healthy bars, were off limits. *makes mental list of Whole30-compliant LaraBars*

Days 4 – 5: Kill all the things

Day 4 and 5  had me the most nervous, as on any given day loud type-rs or gum popping can quickly send me  into the dark and twisty’s. But much to my surprise, I started my day a little earlier than usual and was practically skipping down the street. (This has probally happened maybe 5 times in my entire 25 years on this earth. I.hate.mornings.) All was going well until we had an office party with cake and beer. CAKE AND BEER. I am not exaggerating when I say I could smell the sugar the moment I walked into the kitchen. My body knew what was going on and wanted a piece of that cake. Instead I had a LaraBar and it practically killed me (not the actual LaraBar, but the concept of saying no to cake). One does not just pass up free cake. But I did. Holly: 1 Whole30: 0 By the end of Thursday, I felt like my body was shutting down – it’s first sign of protest after 4 days of no sugar or carbs or ice cream. I went to bed knowing that the worst was yet to come.


For reference, this is what mountain weekend typically looks like.
For reference, this is what mountain weekend typically looks like.

The day when I spend the hours between 8 am (okay, 9:15 am) and 5 pm (well, ok. 4 pm) counting down the minutes until freedom (and booze). This Friday, I would be heading the mountains for the night and I would also be sober. I cave very easily to peer pressure and have rarely turned down a dare, so sticking to the plan while my friends were playing beer pong would be one of my biggest personal challenges.

WHICH I KNOCKED OUT OF THE PARK. Holly: 2 Whole30: 0. I am prouder of surviving a night booze-free than I probably should be. But, I am counting everything as a win.

Another weekend challenge is making Whole30-compliant snack choices when your friends are having a cheese tasting competition and eating late-night pizza. I probably sound like a broken record at this point, but planning is so important. I made sure I had plenty of plan-compliant snacks to help me suffer through. Thank you, plantain chips and guac. You are my saving grace.

Days 6 – 7: I just want to nap

I usually spend most Saturdays and Sundays napping anyway, so I was adequately prepared for this part of the Whole30 timeline. But when I am not sleeping on Saturday, there is a strong chance that we are probably day drinking (sorry, parents). Which was the case this Saturday. Coffee instead of beer at 11 am was actually a surprising experience. However, eating a salad while your friends are crushing nachos at a dive bar was a special and torturous experience.

This is the part in my story in which I shout out to my rad friends who not once peer pressured me or made me feel weird or awkward about my radical lifestyle change. They were supportive and encouraging, as they stuffed their beautiful and lucky faces with cheesy tortilla chips.

That night, I made my way back to Denver, as one sober night in the mountain house was enough for me. I had proved to myself that I could, in fact, survive a night (and day!) out with my friends without a drop of vodka.

Only to be punished by a hangover of a new kind – the carb hangover. By Day 7, my body was PISSED about my diet changes and was ready to head to Illegal Pete’s for our (nearly) weekly breakfast burrito (the closest thing I have to an actual hangover cure).  This was such bullshit. I had taken care of my body all week and went to bed early on a Saturday, only to wake up to this nonsense. Not cool.

Doctor’s orders said “stay in bed” (or at least that is how I interpreted it), which is what I did.

That night, as I set my alarm(s) and packed my lunch, I knew that without a doubt I could kick next week’s ass. And the week after that. I had survived Week One, with 7 big, bold gold stars of success.

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